


When helium meets foreign sperm, great things happen

by Anonymous



Category: Ben Shapiro - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Closeted Character, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, M/M, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:34:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21712288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A fictional story told about a friend from the third-person perspective, where a meeting with their idol Ben Shapiro takes on... salacious dimensions.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7
Collections: Anonymous





	When helium meets foreign sperm, great things happen

Being of an affluent family, my friend--who we’ll call Derek for the sake of this story--had natural leanings towards right-wing politics. He was pale white, cis, and didn’t fuck a single man in his life. It could be aptly said that his day-to-day was not devoid of the pleasantries that progressives would constantly throw on his doorway, about how his life was made up for him from the start, and how he did null to deserve what he got.

Still, that didn’t deter him from appreciating Ben Shapiro’s veneer. The suave conservative boy whose vocal chords sound of helium overabundance did deliver some pretty convincing points for our dear Derek. He was convinced that leftists were trying to stir a melting pot of differing cultures that were ultimately incompatible, and that led him to embrace the theory that for his homeland at least, preserving some measure of white sociocultural perseverance was the way to go. Little did he know that his affinity for the “white” wouldn’t settle for that extent.

Ben Shapiro announced on his Twitter that he was coming to host a talk in Paris, right in the heavily-guarded safe haven of liberals who get first dibs on designer fashion, but go about preaching on environmentalism the next day. It was the perfect city for Shapiro to point out the hypocrisy of liberalism, but there was an extra perk--if you respond to a private form of randomly-curated questions about Shapiro’s show, all successfully with enough detail, you’ll have the chance to meet him in his hotel room after the talk is over for some chat about politics, and who knows, maybe a side of Shapiro we’ve yet to see.

Derek took his chance--he watched enough of Shapiro’s show to know all the references, and all the preferred vocabulary that he uses to refer to his sworn enemies. People of color, trans people, gun control advocates--no one was a l’abri from Shapiro’s wrath. Derek opened up his laptop with the mediocre confidence of a straight white male, and responded to the form--lo and behold, he was picked for a private meeting with Shapiro, and as the moment of truth inched closer, Derek started to get more nervous about the meeting as he’s afraid that he’ll see a different side of Shapiro that might dissuade him from watching him in the future. Worse yet, he feared he’d learn of something that if disclosed out of private confidentiality, it’d destroy everything Shapiro has been working to build since fellow GOP-bootlicker Tucker Carlson handed him a platform on which to grow.

But of course, nothing could possibly be worse than Alex Jones caught ogling at trans women’s breasts in porno scenes--if the InfoWars juggernaut made no pretense about wanting to exploit the people he so despises for his own personal pleasure, Ben Shapiro would risk getting the teeth knocked out of him by Caitlyn Jenner if he had to; which of course, he did.

Derek worked in cybersecurity. So his days were uneventful. Whenever he’d come home, there’s the sight of his female roommate haunting him--“Should I flex my D acrobatics on this chick or nah?”. Being enslaved to his own primitive desires, Derek believed deeply in the tenets of evolutionary psychology. In his mind, if a woman’s body was ripe for the taking, he’d jump on that opportunity like a camel walking a barren long distance, finally beset on the sight of an oasis. He’d play some GTA V, and after feasting on the unconventional ways people dress their characters--almost as an escape from the taboos of society with regards to wardrobe choices--he’d go to town with his ham, milking it for every drop of white honey he could. The insomniac guy he was, this doubled as sleep-inducement, coupled with the bodily pleasure of releasing untapped pure sexual energy.

Unaware of the role his sexual frustrations would play at the Shapiro conference, Derek trucked forth to this college campus nearby where they held the talk. Fortunately for him, the stage was well-equipped, so Shapiro’s duality about freedom of speech and repression of the speech of those whom you disagree with wasn’t completely lost on him. Sat near the front, he listened to Shapiro opined about the trauma that trans people’s existence has wrought on him. “These fucking dudes in dresses go about how I hate them and advocate for their erasure from their society but I don’t! It’s free speech and it’s a free country. Those issues have been settled in the 60s,” says a wounded Shapiro after his ass has been handed by several key figures in LeftTube. Derek was slightly embarrassed that Shapiro would focus on something as petty, but the activism was an important counterweight to this whole ordeal--it doesn’t matter if Shapiro made a fool out of himself, to Derek, what matters is that the ideology wins. The rest is besides the point.

Ben Shapiro finished his talk to the howling noises of noise-pierced vaguely-goth-looking racially-ambiguous students protesting his presence, and there was a cameraman there filming the events so that they may be later posted to his YouTube channel, with the title disseminating to a form of compositional disintegration of some kind. Derek looked at these protesters, annoyed, and whispered under his nose: “Fucking diversity quota progressive scum”.

Shapiro gestured towards Derek, which he recognized from the picture submitted along with the form, and asked him to meet him outside the conference hall where the talk was held. “You’re a brilliant young conservative mind, you know that?” Shapiro said to Derek. The junior right-winger answered excitedly, “I watched every single one of your videos. The analysis is always on-point, and the memes are an even greater asset.” The both laughed and exchanged snarky comments on the students protesting Shapiro’s presence, but Ben’s free time was short-run, and he’d rather have the logistics of the private meeting with one of his biggest fans settled before he runs back to the United States to host a debate between David Duke and Ta-Nehisi Coates for his upcoming “Both Sides” series.

The two rode in Shapiro’s car, which of course was chauffeured by someone else and was unrepresentative of what anyone in the American working class owns. But Derek wasn’t upset by that--after all, he spent his entire life riding in high-end German luxury sedans, only surrounded by the finest cuts of leather and alcantara, with a roof whose translucency could be controlled electronically. Could you believe that! Derek was already living the Amer--French dream, but he nonetheless recognized the power of an operative working from abroad. Nothing better than foreign agents seeking to meddle the balances of power domestically.

The car eventually made its stop at Shapiro’s hotel. Derek was pretty excited--he wanted to pick Shapiro’s brain for so long, maybe even get his opinions on stuff he wouldn’t dare say on camera. Shapiro was equally as delighted--though for reasons Derek would not have previously foreseen.

The two rode the elevator to walk the halls where Shapiro’s room is situated. He swiped the keycard, got in, took his tux off, and sat on the bed. His sleeves pulled back, he looked like Harvey Specter after having solved a season-long case on “Suits”, as Desi Valentine’s Fate Don’t Know You on a conveniently-placed vinyl player. A bottle of scotch on the bedside, he grabbed it, serving a shot to Derek. “Do you drink?” asked Shapiro. “Not always, but I’m down for a good swig every now and then” answered Derek.

Under the influence, the two kept chatting about their deepest pet peeves with leftists--they could not get enough of the fun. It was too good to pass up. Then Derek mentioned the topic of his sexual frustration to Shapiro: “I was always pretty bad with girls. Never got one to share a bed with me. What am I doing wrong?”. It doesn’t seem like Shapiro is the most talented relationship expert out there, but he proposed something uncanny to Derek. “Well if you can’t have girls, just have the next most available boy.”

Derek looked at Shapiro with shock: “You… what? I thought the idea of being gay was unsettling to you.” But this minion of a helium container seemed unfazed. “I say that in front of my audience just to feign ignorance, but I do love me some good dick every now and then. When you’re white, you’re above the threshold of cancelation. Just look at how Pete Buttigieg is doing.”

Convinced by the argument, Derek wondered who’d even be willing to do that, knowing what they know about him being a conservative and having taken a likening to the stereotype that all gay men are sissies. “I mean, I wouldn’t object to stripping a conservative kid of their virginity. Seems to be a better outcome than becoming an Incel”, Shapiro said as Derek looked like someone who just witnessed a drunken man dryhumping a filthy horse. He saw to no better outcome than to have his ass split open by his favorite conservative pundit, so he decided to cave in and give in to his primitive nature.

“Um… Shapiro. Is it okay if I call you daddy?” Derek asked beforehand as to know what level of foreplay they’re engaging. Shapiro, putting his hand over Derek’s “Haven’t you noticed me talking about my dad on the show all the time? I sure do have a “daddy” fetish.” Derek relented, and asked Shapiro bluntly: “Daddy, would you fuck my ass into oblivion?”. Shapiro looking startled, “Woah. I mean, I’m one for introductory meals, but if you want to go to town already, your daddy got a dick unlike his minion-like morphology.”

Derek tenderly slipped his fingers on the two sides of his tight jeans, after having slowly unbuckled them while gazing at Shapiro with the eyes of a sex fiend craving some fuckin’. Inserted, he slowly dropped his pants, revealing a crotch putting Batman’s to shame. He then commanded Shapiro to take his boxers off with his mouth, and Shapiro answered the call. “I’ve been thirsty for dick due to my self-imposed exile away from gay fucking, but I think I’m ready to reassume my true form: That of a Mr. Fantastic-like-dick-having.”

Now exposed for Shapiro to lay waste over, he obliged by merely pulling his pants and underwear just slightly, enough for his massive stick to bulge out. It was massive! You’d think if it was flexible enough, you’d be able to tie it into a knot. Shapiro grabbed Derek by the ass, turned him around, slammed him on the bed as his back met Shapiro’s torso, the short hair of his balls ruffling the outside of Derek’s buttcrack, he gave in and slammed the door on Derek’s ass shut--the dick went in, with the force of an uncontractible Cybertruck, one whose outside thankfully hold up better than its glass, as the skin of his uncircumcised big fat cock keep rubbing off on the inside of Derek’s rectal opening, just as it started to produce juices of their inseverable physical connection.

“Do you feel that Derek? I told you being conservative is nice” as he kept pulling back, then slamming it back in, Derek was slowly becoming undone, as his desire to repress as much of his sexual deviancy was eventually broken, leading him to let out sing-songs of manly pleasure, a tune to which the angels of love would sing until the break of dawn. “Yes daddy Shapiro, give pushing that dick up my ass.”

Shapiro, as he was patting Derek’s hair while his ass was at a state of lubrication the likes of which are only matched by diarrhea, decided it was too much trouble to keep clothes on. Realizing he had money to foot the bill of a suppressed kink, he grabbed Derek’s clothes, and tore them apart. Before Derek could suss out a word, Shapiro reassured him, “I’ll not only pay you back in fresh new clothes, but also a fountain of cum you’ll be begging to season your hot tub with.” Derek shut up and took the pounding, as the fume of sweat was coming off their naked bodies as they shared a moment of--if a tad exploitative--genuine gayness expressed through the most unconventional of methods.

As Shapiro was making of Derek’s asshole a radioactive wasteland, a nuclear missile was preparing to take off in the front. Shapiro lifted off Derek, and prepared to take him on doggy-style, but with an extra bonus--Shapiro was going to massage Derek’s massive affair of a dick, just as he was caressing the insides of his behind hole.

He grabbed it gently, and softly, after covering his hands with a tinge of lube, and went down and over on Derek, awakening within him a sense of new-found appreciation for all that is gay. “Oh fuck oh yes, stroke that fat cock daddy,” Derek obliged. But it wasn’t just this revelation that seemed uncanny--through moments of uncontainable moaning and loud sighing, Derek disclosed that “This is why I never fucked a girl. Cuz I wanted to fuck boys--Oh yes oh fuck gimme that dick my fucking daddy.”

The arrangement has made Derek like quite the sub, but it didn’t take long for the tables to turn--no less based on the request of Shapiro himself. “My dick feels so good inside you, and I love stroking yours but… I’d like to have it inside my ass too.” Derek, under the spell of Shapiro’s unwieldy of a cock, relented: “Alright daddy, but promise me you’ll suck every last bit of my cum once I’m done with you, okay?” Shapiro, his mind addled by indescribable euphoria from inserting his cock into another man’s hole, said “Yes, I’ll scoop it out with my fingers myself and push it down my mouth”.

Derek laid flat, as Shapiro slowly placed himself to sit upright, just as Derek’s dick was slowly making acquaintance of its mate’s ass. “Ah fuck, isn’t that so good” Shapiro yelled as Derek felt his insides jolting from the thought of having penetrated his favorite conservative pundit. Shapiro then took to applying the advanced mechanics of sexual proficiency, as he slowly descended up and down Derek’s dick, lubricating it with his inner fluids as the gland of his voluminous dick kept repeatedly hitting Shapiro’s G-spot. The two were decidedly happy with the arrangement. Shapiro, in a frenzy of fun, as Derek held him from both sides of his butt with his sweat-soaked hands--or as Hank Green would call them “The upper part of his legs” since he thinks butt is legs--just as Shapiro kept going up and down, Derek’s balls following suit as Shapiro was taking in the pounding of the decade; maybe even the century.

But any ass-pounding must end with jizz-dispensing, and so the jizz was dispensed--Derek let out a howl heard by the corners of Paris, most-cohabited by its marginalized community, just as a stream of freshly-brewed cum was rushing up his cock into Shapiro’s ass, who then in turn let out a splash of cum that flew so high, it splattered across the expensive chandelier up high. An indistinguishable wave of moaning and maternal caressing was being exchanged, just as the two disbanded, surrounded by cum, and its smell.

“You asked, and I’ll oblige” said Shapiro while reaching with two fingers into his ass, pulling out Derek’s cum and swallowing it whole. “Fuck that’s hot” approvingly said Derek. The two, laying in bed, looking at each other with glee, realized the fun they’d been missing by shackling their sexuality to their political identity, both having come out with a night they’d cherish until their dying breath.

“Damn Shapiro, turns out I didn’t only your words--however deceitful they sometimes have been--I like your dick in my ass too” Derek said, snickering. “Haha, likewise my young conservative produce.”

The two relished in the experience they had, but for every moment of brief disconnection from the shackles of everyday life, there must be an end. And after taking a quick shower, as the leftovers of our heroes’ juices washed off each others’ skin, Derek had to depart, but he wouldn’t leave until he took Shapiro’s number. 

Three years go by since this holy moment. Bernie Sanders is president. Trump’s policies are no more, and the system is being appended to benefit the downtrodden many rather than the privileged few. Shapiro rode on a redemption arc, and was finally able to be publicly sighted with Derek, holding hands from meeting to meeting, getting interview on podcasts about the switch from conservatism to socialism, just as the two casually wore make-up and embraced a display of unrivaled gay wholesomeness.

A year later, they were wed. Shapiro had lived his best life, and Derek, who thought it was a life of endless suffering for him, now became the partner of one of the most influential left activists. To say the least, things have turned around since his first contact with semen that was not his.


End file.
